Authors on Location

This is a blogpost that explores the power of getting out from behind the computer screen and going off on wild adventures to the places our characters live.

This September, I had an incredible adventure, I went to Paris with the #NCWR (Next Chapters Writing Retreat) run by Janet Wallace. It was incredible for many reasons, but one of the primary reasons was that it took place in Paris.

I love Paris - and when I say I 'love' Paris, I don't mean that in that typical 'Oh, I just simply love my holiday destination' way, I mean that when I'm there, my soul sings. Everything about Paris; the cafes, the food, the architecture, the vibrancy, the art, the people makes me tick. When I'm there, I feel the power of creativity in everything.

My love affair with Paris started nearly fifteen years ago when I went for the first time. I'd never really had a compulsion to go, assuming that the whole place would be some nightmare tourist destination, overly romanticised in in a gazillion films and books. I ended up going because of work, and the magic was instant. Paris really is as beautiful as the imagination.

Each time I have been, and I've been fortunate enough to go many times over the year, I have always vowed that one day, I would add to that long legacy of using Paris as a backdrop to a novel or series. And indeed, when I began penning out the second series of my serial 'Beautiful Freaks' it was a natural backdrop of the next stage in the story.

I had grown up studying the design of the Art Nouveau period, of reading French Aesthetic literature (sadly, not in French, but one day) and of the history of French art. (I was that kind of child LOL) The history of Paris is fascinating - it's raw and bloody, and full of flesh and vice, and nobility and adventure. It's a city that has indulged every pleasure and sense, and which has suffered every tragedy.

When I walk around Paris, I am haunted by a million ghosts.

So, to Beautiful Freaks. I discovered an online article about the avant garde cafes which swept Paris at the Fin de siecle. They were places that celebrated the transgressive, the dark creative mind, the limitless boundaries of spiritual and sensual experimentation. They were imbued with esoteric occultism; places of ideas and rituals. They had names like 'The Mouth of Hell' and 'The Devil's Playground' and catered for a tastes that have a long lineage in Paris. I knew immediately that this was where this story was going, that it was a natural home for my protagonist.

In Paris, there is a sense of intrinsic beauty in darkness; of ultimate life in death. The libertine pursuit for the the most pleasure that can be endured; the petit morte. The architecture reflects this, creating the sense of the sublime in the metropolis, verdant stone flora and fauna decorates almost every house, every gate and piece of iron work is excessive, and rich and full of sensuality - even the graveyards in Paris are a manifestation of this French notion that at the line between life and death, there is the ultimate beauty, the most exquisite creativity. That a rose is at its most exquisite and full of life the very moment before it begins to die.

So as part of our retreat, we spent some time visiting Monmarte Cemetery - a place of absolute inspiration and contemplation. They call Monmarte a Necropolis (A city of the dead) and you navigate it via quaint Victorian signposts, the kind you'd expect to see in any living city. The monuments are beyond a stone angel here and there, they are charnel houses, temples, and homes for the dead. They are pieces of craftsmanship and art - because there is beauty in death as much as in life.

And it's this fascination that sums up the idea of the Gothic in literature; that we are most alive when we are in fear of our own death - and it is perhaps why the character of the vampire, the werewolf, the quiet deadly danger refuses to fade from popularity; they are all creatures who hold the power of life and death in their hands - and that power is intoxicating.

And so to location - being there in Monmarte, walking the footsteps that I know my character has walked, seeing the things that I know my character has witnessed, touching the space and immersing myself in their world is invaluable - and it has put my creativity into overload - and by getting to know my characters' world in such an intimate way, it's helped me reflect on who I am as an author - as a creative identity. I guess, that as much as the adage, you are what you eat stands true, so does, 'You are What You Write.'

Beautiful Freaks Season 2 is DUE OUT SPRING 2017

BEAUTIFUL FREAKS SEASON 1 was nominated for a UTOPiA 2016 Award for Best Serial Series 2016

99¢ / 99p DOWNLOAD FOR OCTOBER

In order to celebrate the month dedicated to all things Gothic and darkling, Volume 1 (which contains episodes 1-6) has been placed on $0.99 Kindle Download. (Paperback editions are also available from Amazon worldwide, or if you want a signed edition, head over to my FB page and message me.

AMAZON USA: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01GE2PHM8
AMAZON UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01GE2PHM8

BLURB:

A dark and twisted saga that winds its way through the Victorian streets of London like a luxurious and lethal ribbon. 
When a series of terrifying and seemingly paranormal murders occur at a rapid rate, panic and fear grip the city. Still haunted by the ghost of the Whitechapel Ripper case, Inspector Steptree is forced to admit the murderer he now pursues maybe even more wicked and brutal. As the case closes down on the mysterious No.7 club, owned by the enigmatic Evangeline Valentine, Steptree discovers that evil is far from a fantasy. 
It is against this backdrop that Kaspian Blackthorne turns eighteen and begins his apprenticeship under the scientific maverick, Doctor Greyson, a pioneer in brain surgery, and human transplantation. Whilst Kaspian is introduced to the horrors and wonders of man’s scientific progress, he also begins an epic adventure of self-discovery and infatuation. Guided into the decadent and luxuriant world of the London West End night scene by his new friend Hugh Denvers, Kaspian tastes the sweet temptation of a life less ordinary, but such a privilege comes at a terrible price. 
A cast of timeless characters and dark, grown-up fairy tales interweave to create a rich and haunting tale of fear and desire.

CHAPTER TASTER: Exclusive showcase of the first Chapter of the new series 'Beautiful Freaks'

Today I am sharing with you the opening chapter of 'Beautiful Freaks' the serial based on the original novel, 'Beautiful Freaks' which was published in 2012.

This series has taken that novel as the starting point; the series has a much bigger cast of fantastical creatures, well recognised gothic characters and a lot more action. 3 seasons of 'Beautiful Freaks' is planned. Each series is 12 episodes and each episode is 10,000 (the size of a small novella)

The first TWO episodes will be downloadable on THURSDAY 3rd DECEMEBER (You can Pre-order them both now HERE)  and then an episode will be released every Thursday afterwards until the end of the series. In order that you don't miss one, they are all available on PRE-ORDER at Amazon.worldwide.

Visit the Beautiful Freaks Facebook Page

So without further ado - let me introduce you to the opening chapter of 'Beautiful Freaks'

SEASON 1 EPISODE 1

 

1

LONDON 1899

 

BOTH the century and its Queen were dying. The winds of change rattled through the streets of the metropolis, leaving its citizens fearful of the coming times. Uncertainty bred suspicion, causing the people to return to the old ways. Mystics and fortune-tellers swarmed out of the city mists and filled the billboards of the now sober dancehalls. Nobody felt like dancing anymore. Gypsies hawked silver charms and lucky heather, and iron-faced preacher-men stood at every corner shouting warnings of damnation. It was a grey world, full of shadows.

The city was a landscape of monsters, both of flesh and brick. Chimneys from a thousand slave factories belched out black smoke; stealing the breath from the lungs and the light from the sky. Workhouses swallowed the poor; asylums the insane. It was amongst this labyrinth of sorrow Kaspian Blackthorne walked.

He was approaching his eighteenth birthday, although he felt he had been an adult for most of his life. His patron, Professor Heartlock, was making arrangements for a small private engagement in celebration of the boy’s coming of age. It would be an interesting evening, although not a very exciting one.

Heartlock was a paranormal investigator – had been a paranormal investigator – he was now mostly housebound. For the past three years, the professor had been confined to a wheelchair following a serious accident whilst in pursuit of a notorious serial killer. That was the official story. In truth, the professor had broken his back falling from the roof of a church in pursuit of a werewolf.

 Professor Heartlock had once been a fascinating man to a younger Kaspian, but now his fantastical tales had faded into the sad ramblings of a man full of regret about losing his youth. When he told his tales, the lines between reality and fantasy increasingly blurred, to the point Kaspian worried the old man was losing his genius mind.

 Kaspian had been just a baby when his mother and father were brutally murdered by an escaped Bedlam lunatic. The madman had believed William and Eliza Blackthorne were evil demons disguised as respectable people. He’d followed them for months, skulking in the shadows, before striking one night on their return from the opera. Despite there being several witnesses to the violent attack, the murderer still managed to dispose of their bodies so that they were never found. The whole case had been riddled with inexplicable circumstances and so quickly became a national news sensation. The murderer made no attempt to hide or escape; he maintained he was working for the glory of God. Regardless of his belief, they hanged him in front of a large cheering crowd.

With no other relatives, Kaspian had been destined for the workhouse orphanage until Heartlock came to his rescue.

Heartlock had been a good patron, although perhaps a little lacking in his understanding of children and childhood. As such, Kaspian’s nursery had been a study. His playthings, strange scientific apparatuses and his childhood stories, great leather-bound texts on religion and the supernatural. It sometimes seemed Heartlock had been set on raising a protégé to carry on his life’s work rather than a young man. As a result, although Kaspian’s upbringing hadn’t been cruel, it had been serious; and although showered in fondness and attention, it had lacked love.

Kaspian pondered his eighteen years as he walked through the evening gloom of the London streets. The rain had forced most people inside, creating the impression that the great metropolis had turned into a ghost town. Kaspian liked walking through the streets at times like this. It made him feel as if he were walking through his own misty and silent empire.

He’d been on an errand for his patron and was now returning, laden down with books. His cargo didn’t stop him skipping over the puddles with an unusual childlike joy, or humming to himself. He was happy and free.

Then he saw her.

She was standing under the streetlight, a newspaper held out in front of her as if she were reading it. Kaspian thought it obvious she wasn’t; she was watching the church on the other side of the cobbled street. He stopped midstride and pulled himself behind a tree; spied on her as she took a pocket-watch from her pocket and flipped open the lid. She cradled it in the palm of her hand and raised it until it was level with her eyes before studying it carefully. This struck Kaspian as an odd way to read the time, most people just looked down with a quick glance, and it led him to believe the device she held was not a watch at all, but another form of apparatus.

He looked over to the church she was watching. It looked empty and he couldn’t fathom what could possibly be of interest. The lights were out, the door locked, and the whole place had the impression of sleeping. He turned his attention back to the woman. She was tall and slender; striking in a slightly over-powerful way. Despite wearing a full, black-silk skirt, the fitted waistcoat and black necktie were manlier in dress than ladylike. He’d never seen a woman like her, although he had heard of ‘her sort’ as Heartlock’s companions would say.

Kaspian took advantage of her intense concentration to move his head around the tree and peer at her more closely. He could see she wore a monocle in her left eye and was at least ten years younger than he’d guessed from the first impression; about twenty-one. She must have sensed him looking at her because she turned towards him and smiled at the rather ludicrous sight of him poking out from behind the tree. Kaspian was already precariously balanced on the tip of his toes, and in an attempt to dash back behind the tree, he stumbled straight into her line of vision. 

He bent down and pretended he’d been about to tie his shoelaces, trying to mask his clumsiness. As he looked up at her from under his flop of dark, wavy hair, he saw she was still smiling at him; a strange reaction to the discovery someone was spying on you. The boldness of her action unsettled Kaspian in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. When he was sure she had returned to her own secret observations, he scuttled past her and almost ran to the safety of home.

 By the time he pushed open the imposing front door, Kaspian carried the strangest sense that something deep within him had changed – that things would never be quite as before.

“Good evening, Kaspian,” Heartlock said, greeting the boy in the hallway. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Sir,” he answered, dropping the small pile of books onto the hall table.

“Did you manage to get all I requested?”

“Yes, all of them apart from the Valentine book. Mr. Foxglove said he was sure he would have it by the end of the week.”

Mr. Foxglove was one of Heartlock’s oldest acquaintances. He ran a bookshop situated in one of Soho’s shadier alleyways. The sign above the door read, ‘Rare and Precious Books’ which made it sound almost respectable. In truth, the great leather-bound books of poetry and Shakespeare folios were a front for the back room; the place that held real interest for its rather darker clientele.

Although the shop had a small, narrow front, it had a seemingly endless body, which always gave Kaspian the unnerving impression he was being swallowed by a giant snake. Right at its tail was the occult section. Not only did Mr. Foxglove sell occult books, but there were also shelves of other strange and curious objects, which might appeal to the amateur alchemist or necromancer; glass jars of preserved reptiles, grinning skulls, and black candles were amongst some of the more identifiable items.

Kaspian had visited Foxglove’s shop since being a small boy and he was no longer quite so scared, or impressed, by its spooky appearance or its owner. Before Professor Heartlock’s accident, they’d always visited together. It was one of the rare occasions the old man shared any physical affection with his charge. Kaspian would search out Heartlock’s bear-like paw and grip it tightly, afraid the strange Mr. Foxglove might kidnap him and cook him for supper.

Mr. Foxglove had always been ancient, and so paradoxically he no longer aged. He wore a glass eye, but as he’d shrunk with age, it had become too big for the socket and now bulged, giving the impression the eye belonged more to an insect than a man. Even now, Kaspian constantly had to remind himself not to be rude and stare at it because he found it totally captivating. Mr. Foxglove had long lost the ability to stride and now shuffled along the stone floor in a pair of velvet slippers. In all of his years of visiting, Kaspian had never seen the man wear outdoor shoes.

The occult section of the shop had no windows. Before the client entered, Mr. Foxglove would shuffle into the darkness and light the dusty oil-lamps, which filled the room with paraffin smoke, and cast dancing shadows over the books. As a child, Mr. Foxglove had taken delight in teasing Kaspian about his fears surrounding the shop, telling him the shadows belonged to the book goblins. Both men would laugh, and although he knew he was being mocked, Kaspian’s imagination refused to give up the idea – even now he found himself looking for the goblins out of the corner of his eye.  

Today, Mr. Foxglove had already bundled and tied the books in readiness and they were sitting on the counter waiting for collection. Kaspian was grateful for this; not only did it save him time but it also meant he did not have to visit the back room. The books were heavy and twice he had used them as an excuse to stop and rest; once in a coffee shop and once to spy on the strange woman who now haunted the edges of his thoughts.

 “Ah, well – patience is a virtue,” said Heartlock, snapping Kaspian out of his drifting daydream. The professor’s face flickered with disappointment and he started to cough in reaction to the early winter air Kaspian had brought in with him. Heartlock’s aging lungs squeezed and wheezed; it was a sound now as familiar as the sound of his voice.

The old man recovered the pile of books from the side table and placed them into his lap before deftly turning his wicker wheelchair one hundred and eighty degrees and wheeling back towards his study.

Kaspian let out a deep sigh. The sight of his patron becoming so immobile and decrepit added to the increasing sense of heaviness Kaspian believed was attached to the adult world. Even the house, his home since childhood, faded and peeled on a daily basis. It was as if the whole place was a projection of its master’s state. The dust layer deepened, the gloom spread, and Kaspian felt increasingly like he was suffocating.

When Heartlock had been a fit man, the house had been full of fascinating visitors; the sound of hearty, booming laughter and the tinkling of whisky glasses filled the study, which was a hub of academic and scientific progress. It was amazing how quickly a life could decay. 

 

October Frights Blog Hop: Introduction.

WELCOME
Post I

It's finally October, my favourite month of the year. The month I chose to get married in because to me, it's one of the most romantic times of the year; log fires, good red wine, long chats, snuggles on the sofa... and then of course, it's also the month of one of my favourite holidays, Halloween.

Being English, Halloween has not always been particularly celebrated - but in this house, it's a big deal; a chance to dress up, feast, make merry and remember loved ones passed.

It's also the month that I usually reconnect with my horror homies, catch up with their recent releases and what they've been doing over the year. This year, the wonderful Clarissa Johal has picked up the Halloween blog hop mantle and has organised October Frights Blog Hop. A collection of almost 50 writers of horror in all it's forms (see the blog hop link below)

I and others on the blog hop will be posting throughout the first 10 days of October to get you in the mood for early nights, creeping mists and Halloween. Embrace your dark side. Read some horror.

Just like Trick or Treating, all you need to do is metaphorically knock on the door of the blog pages below and the chances are that you'll bag yourself some really awesome swag as well as learn a whole load of interesting things about these talented authors and their books.

TREAT
To get the party started, I'm offering a signed paperback edition of 'Witchcraft' to one lucky commenter on this blog post. I'll ship it worldwide but bear in mind it will be snail mail if you're outside of Europe.

Tales from the Asylum. A collection of short stories exclusive to the blog.

For those of you who have read 'The Meadowsweet Chronicles' you will be aware of a sinister little building tucked away deep in Raven's Wood, called 'The Rookeries'.

Built by the wealthy and powerful Ravenheart family as a hospital for the local village of Heargton, it caught mysteriously alight just a few years after its completion in 1879. Rebuilt, it became an 'Institution For the Criminal Insane and the Morally Dissolute; housing highly dangerous criminals in the basement floors, the wretched figures of the mentally ill and deranged on the lower floors, and a maternity suite on the top floor.

Through ages of cutting edge experimental psychiatric medical and psychological experimentation, 'The Rookeries' became stained with the sadness and sorrow of many souls. The Rookeries, a literal Hell on Earth, was made worse by the evil and wickedness of the doctors and staff, who turned a blind eye, or actively indulged, in strange paranormal practices that unleashed dark and evil forces within its many walls.

Now, in the twenty first century, it is said that the ghostly cries of the patients can still be heard winding through the skeletal pine-trees, despite The Rookeries being nothing more than a ruinous ramble of rooms and long forgotten relics.

Today sees the very first post in a series of short stories (each no more than 2,000 words and taking no longer than 5-10minutes to read) based on tales from The Rookeries Asylum of Heargton. They are #FlashFiction pieces; experimental outpourings of creativity that might one day, in one form or another find themselves woven into the Meadowsweet Chronicles, but more than likely wont.

Today's tale is called 'New Nurse' and you can read it here.

If dark and suspenseful horror is your thing, then hopefully you will enjoy this little series. Don't forget to drop a comment in the box and sign up to the blog so you don't miss out on any of the series.

You can find out more about the Meadowsweet Chronicles at the official website www.katiemjohn.com

Beautiful Freaks Blog Tour has started!

From May 25th to May 30th, my book, 'Beautiful Freaks' is on tour, making 24 stopovers at some wonderful book blogs. There will be interviews, info posts and other fun stuff, as well as a mammoth giveaway.

I'd like to say a massive thank you to Anna Dase at 'Read Between The Lines' (RBTL) book tours for organising this phenomenal event and to all of the lovely bloggers who have offered space on their blog, their support and their lovely communications throughout the planning of this event.

FULL RBTL TOUR GUIDE SCHEDULE

BEAUTIFUL FREAKS TOUR SCHEDULE. 
All linked up: Click to go. 

Read Between The Lines Mar 25

As You Wish Reviews Mar 26

A Crazy Vermonter's Book Reviews Mar 27
The Book Town May 28
Amazing Books Mar 31

Shelves of Books Blog April 2

Nomi's Paranormal Palace April 4

Busy Moms Book Reviews April 6

The Journey Continues April 11

Immortal Crimson Reviews April 16

Recent Reads April 18

Close Encounters With The Night Kind April 19

Fae Books April 20

Confessions of the Paranormal April 22

Condygurl's Crazed Compedium  April 25

The Many Muse's of MaryLynn April 29

Breathe In Books  May 2

Susan's Wicked Writings May 4

Lady Amber's Reviews May 8

Airicka Phoenix May 14
Ever and Ever Sight May 23

Read 2 Review May 24

A Little Bit of R&R May 27

Intoxicated By Books May 29